


No Rest for the Wicked (or the Good, either)

by theparanoidandroid



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Dorks in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theparanoidandroid/pseuds/theparanoidandroid
Summary: Crowley always felt bothered by that. Sleep was one of the many habits of humanity he’d found himselfagreeing withover his six thousand years on planet Earth, and he quite liked it, really. After all, he’d managed to sleep through whole decades in the past. Even centuries. The fourteenth century, in particular. That one had been a real bore. People nowadays -- Human people, of course -- thought they had it bad, when they had to sit through an especially dull lesson in school, or mull through a meeting at work as the clock hands on the wall seemed to be stuck in molasses, but they hadno idea.Six thousand years had taught Crowley whatmind-bogglingly boringwas like.- or -Crowley and Aziraphale run away together after Armageddon is stopped. An alternative ending, taking place the night following the events of Armageddon But Not Quite.





	No Rest for the Wicked (or the Good, either)

As the old saying goes, there’s no rest for the wicked.

Crowley always felt bothered by that. Sleep was one of the many habits of humanity he’d found himself _agreeing with_ over his six thousand years on planet Earth, and he quite liked it, really. After all, he’d managed to sleep through whole decades in the past. Even centuries. The fourteenth century, in particular. That one had been a real bore. People nowadays -- Human people, of course -- thought they had it bad, when they had to sit through an especially dull lesson in school, or mull through a meeting at work as the clock hands on the wall seemed to be stuck in molasses, but they had _no idea._ Six thousand years had taught Crowley what _mind-bogglingly boring_ was like.

Humans had it made, if you asked Crowley. Eight to ten hours of nothing but sleep that fit right into their schedules. Crowley would kill for that. Admittedly, he’d feel a bit guilty, a bit wrong about it afterwards, but no one had to know about that bit. Like Aziraphale. Especially Aziraphale. He didn’t need that angel telling him he was _nice_ again anytime soon, thank you very much. Because he wasn’t. Nice. Nice was a four-letter word, after all, and Crowley didn’t do so well with those. Crowley wasn’t good with words in general, which Aziraphale had often told him could be changed if he just _picked up a book for once._

Not that that the angel had any more books left to offer him, at the moment. Not anymore.

On the other hand, Aziraphale disliked sleep. It wasn’t that the concept of resting was unpleasant itself. Sleep just felt… counterproductive. Any time Crowley had tempted him to simply close his eyes for even just a few moments, he began to feel jumpy, and alert, as if he had somewhere to be. Aziraphale was organized, busy, and efficient, and he didn’t _need_ to sleep. There was no use in wasting all that time when he could be getting something important done, right?

Crowley enjoyed sleeping, which was what he was doing now. He was on the Tube at the moment, slitted eyes shut beneath his mirrored glasses and his head resting back on the train seats that were just a _bit_ too uncomfortable. He didn’t blink much, Crowley, so when he did close his eyes to get some good, peaceful shuteye, it stung for a while. But he’d gotten used to it, since the beginning of Time. There had been plenty of it since then, after all.

In the seat beside him was the angel Aziraphale, his hands folded and fidgeting in his lap as he gazed around the brightly-lit train car. The train whistled and clanged as it rattled down the black tunnels, barreling towards Heathrow. Aziraphale didn’t know just _how_ Crowley could even _think_ of sleeping at that moment, not with everything that had happened that afternoon. Aziraphale couldn’t cease his worrying. But that wasn’t saying much. Aziraphale hadn’t been able to cease his worrying since the garden. A truly, literally unbreakable habit.

Armageddon had only been stopped by sheer Luck, Aziraphale told himself. Luck was good, though. Luck was what had _saved_ everyone else. Saved humanity. It was only by sheer Luck that Adam Young had made the decision that he had. But Luck, in this situation, could only save so many living things. Something had to be compromised.

In this case, that "something" was going to be Aziraphale and Crowley.

How Crowley had convinced Aziraphale that running away from the Powers That Be was just a splendid idea, even the angel didn’t know. The most he could tell you, if you had asked, was that Antony J. Crowley, formerly known as “Crawly”, had a pair of enticing eyes and a charming smile, and a certain kind of look and tone of voice that Aziraphale couldn’t say no to. So, here the two of them were. Heading off to London Heathrow. Where they would _go_ from there, once they _got there,_ and what would happen when they _did…_ Well. That was just another thing Aziraphale didn’t know.

Aziraphale didn’t like not knowing. It made him antsy.

When the automated voice above them announced that they had arrived at Osterley, the angel jumped in his seat, elbowing Crowley in the rib and effectively waking him up. He stirred in his seat, mirrored black sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his pointed nose. Yellow, reptilian eyes blinked in confusion, and he scowled, pushing the glasses back up his nose and letting his head fall back on the cushion of his seat.

“Sorry, sorry,” Aziraphale spluttered, apologizing profusely. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I don’t think you could.” sighed the serpent. “Mean to. What’s up, angel?”

 _”Up?_ What do you mean, _Up?_ What’s happening Up There, you mean?” Aziraphale was rigid, breathless in his seat, his voice bordering on hysteria now. "How should I know? I don’t know what They’re planning, how could I?”

Crowley stared at him in calm disbelief. “It’s a figure of speech, Aziraphale.”

He relaxed. “Oh. Right. Of course.”

Crowley sunk into his seat, fingernails tapping on the plastic armrest furthest away from the angel. “Where are we?”

“Osterley.”

“Oh, good. Almost there, then.”

“Yes.”

The serpent folded his arms over his chest, going so still any onlooker would have thought he’d just gone to sleep again. He stared at the floor of the train, as the whole car clambered noisily round a corner, making the angel next to him cringe. 

Crowley couldn’t blame him, for all his worrying. He was nervous, too. He wasn’t always good at concealing it, true, but compared to Aziraphale, he was as cool as ice. But really, though, it was just as well that he’d been jostled awake. Crowley had things to think about. Like where their destination was going to be. What Crowley needed to do to get the two of them on that plane together.

What was going to happen when the Powers That Be inevitably found them, and tracked them down.

What Crowley was going to say, when that happened.

Because there weren’t a lot of options when it came to that. He couldn’t just salute Aziraphale, as he was burned to smithereens. He couldn’t disappear with a “nice knowing you.” He couldn’t. It was Aziraphale. The angel. The enemy. The friend. The something more. Whatever.

Crowley hadn’t meant to get attached to the enemy, he really hadn’t, but he couldn’t help it.

And, besides, his Side shouldn’t have gone about promoting disobedience if they couldn’t take it themselves.

Crowley didn’t like four-letter words, yet there were only so many he could use to describe how he felt about Aziraphale.

But none of that mattered anymore, because as much as Crowley would have liked to work up the courage to say something about it, stuff like that took quite a bit of Time, and unfortunately for him, he didn’t really have much of that left. At least, he was ninety-nine point nine percent sure that he didn’t really have much of that left.

The serpent’s eyes fleeted to Aziraphale, unnoticeable under the shades. He looked pale, fidgety, uncomfortable and vigilant. His hand rested on the armrest of his own seat.

Slowly, Crowley’s arm snaked out, his hand trapping Aziraphale’s underneath his. Their fingers intertwined. The angel looked at the demon, quizzically, eyes soft. 

“Angel.”

“Yes, my dear?”

Crowley used his free hand to remove his shades, peculiar eyes meeting Aziraphale’s as a tiny smirk graced his features. “Whatever happens, whatever we _do_ when we get wherever it is we’re _going…_ We’ll do it _together,_ alright? Deal?”

There was a pause, and then the angel smiled. “Deal.”

“Good.” replied the serpent, and kept their fingers locked together.

It would be a less-than-desirable fate, thought Crowley, to die at the hands of his own people, but it would be an even worse fate, to suffer the same death without the angel. His not-quite-enemy. His friend. Something more. Whatever.

Love.

Some four-letter words, Crowley decided, were better than others.

**Author's Note:**

> This is certainly different than my usual stuff-
> 
> This is an awfully short piece, but I had lots of fun with it.
> 
> Good Omens has always been my favorite book (right up next to Gaiman's _Neverwhere_ ), and the miniseries did it so much justice that I had to do something in celebration. David Tennant and Michael Sheen were such perfect picks for the Ineffable Husbands. Not to mention Neil blessed the fandom with more beautiful content of these two being these two. I love these idiots in love so much.
> 
> This was a lot of fun to do, and I'm glad I went through with it, taking a break from my normal stuff. I hope it was enjoyable, and if you have anything to say, don't hesitate to do so. Comments always make my week. Thank you lots for reading!!


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